Between Seasons
by Nertz To You
Summary: My idea of what transpired in between seasons three and four. this is my first mash fanfic, so please, be gentle! (LOL) I screwed up and put the same chapter twice(fixed it, though). please R
1. Default Chapter

Chapter One  
  
The door to O.R. opened slowly as Radar, barely able to stand, walked in.  
  
"Radar, put a mask on," said Trapper, his arms buried in some poor soldier's guts.  
  
"If that's my discharge, give it to me straight," said Hawkeye. "I can take it."  
  
"I have a message," Radar mumbled. With a heavy, tear-ladened sigh, he continued, "Lt. Colonel Henry Blake's plane was shot down over the Sea of Japan. It spun in. There were no survivors." With that, he simply turned around and stumbled out of the room.  
  
All a person could hear was tears being choked back, with the occasional surgical instrument clattering to the floor as the MASH surgeons continued to work, trying to save the patients that they were working on.  
  
"It should have been ME on that plane!" yelled Hawk as he stripped off his blood-covered gown. "Why Henry? Huh? Why Trap?"  
  
"If you had been on that plane, some of these boys we just worked on would have died right along with you, and you know it!" Trapper John answered.  
  
"Pipe down, you two!" Frank spit out, his face coming up from the top of Margaret's shoulder. "We are all upset by his death. Why doesn't everyone just calm down? Go over to the Swamp and have a drink and toast him if you want, but keep quiet so we can mourn in peace!"  
  
"You know, Frank, that is probably the best idea you have ever had," said Trapper. "Come on, Hawk. Listen to Frank for a change. Let's go."  
  
Chapter Two  
  
The empty martini glass slipped out of Hawk's fingers and fell to the floor, shattering into a hundred shards as he stood up, drunker than he had been in a long time, to pour another drink.  
  
Major Burns entered the Swamp.  
  
"I said one drink to toast him," he mumbled, eyes blood-shot from crying. "Boy, you two take the cake. Give you an inch and you take a mile! Is this how you guys are going to act when I'm in command? I'm not Henry. You will not walk all over me like you did him!"  
  
"Shut up, Frank!" muttered Trap. He stood up just in time to catch Hawkeye as he started to fall to the floor. "Help me put him in his cot, will ya?"  
  
"Drunk as a skunk! Again!" snapped Frank as he bent over to grab Hawk's ankles. "You won't be boozing it up anymore. Not with me running the ship! No sirree, bub."  
  
"Take your own advice, Frank. Pipe down, pack up your gear, and move into your new 'home' so WE can mourn in peace!" Trapper bit out, his words slightly slurred as he was just as drunk as Hawkeye.  
  
"You won't talk to me like that again! I am your commander, now! I'll let it slide tonight, but no more!"  
  
"Out, Frank, out! Before Hawk wakes up and takes out your tonsils through your nose!"  
  
Frank gathered up what he could carry and left, still uttering something about being ion charge and respect. He turned around long enough to say that he would be sending over a corpsman to get the rest of his gear. He was far enough away that he didn't hear Trapper's martini glass also shatter, this one against the door and still half full. 


	2. The Memorial

O.K., fans! I think I'm ready to start the next segment of "Between Seasons."  
  
I hope you enjoy it as much as the first.  
  
Please R&R. Will do same for those who do mine.  
  
Chapter Three  
  
The mess tent was empty, except for Father Mulcahy and Corporal Klinger, who were busy trying to set up for Henry Blake's memorial services. It was the day following Radar's gut-wrenching announcement in the O.R., and they still couldn't believe it was true. People had given the father letters, poems, stories, and even scraps of paper with their own personal fond memories of Henry at Mulcahy's request. Because they didn't have a body to do a proper funeral, (he was being shipped home as soon as he was found) the Padre suggested putting the bulletin board up with pictures, stories, and such to commemorate their beloved former boss.  
  
It was ten minutes to three, and people were starting to fill the tent, as the services were scheduled to start at three o'clock sharp. Mulcahy sat behind the pulpit as nurses, doctors, corpsmen, and servicemen alike walked through the door and paused to glance at the board. Some laughed, some half-heartedly grinned, but mostly, they fought to hold back their tears.  
  
Everyone was eventually seated. Father Mulcahy stood and walked slowly to the pulpit, finding it difficult to even begin. He glanced over the crowd.  
  
This is my biggest crowd yet, he thought. How will I make it through this? I'm their spiritual leader, their rock, and yet here I am, trembling like a child myself.  
  
Major Frank Burns, the new 'beloved' commander was sitting in the front row. "Can we get started, Father? I still have my office to finish setting up." Major Houlihan nudged him in the ribs hard enough to make him cringe. "Sorry!" Frank apologized.  
  
"My friends. Where do I begin? He was a great man," Mulcahy started. "He listened when on of us needed someone to talk to. Always had a good drink when one needed one." This elicited a few laughs. "Always knew what to say and when to say it. He had a heart as big as all outdoors." A bit more sobs. "He was a fine surgeon, doctor commander and friend." He paused, eyes watering. "Goodbye, dear, sweet man! Goodbye, Henry!"  
  
His voice cracked, and, unable to hold back, broke down into sobs. "And now, I'll leave it up to you, my flock as it were, to say a few words."  
  
Major Sidney Freedman stood up. "I'll keep this short. Henry was a man who didn't belong here, and yet without him, I don't think we could have made it through the war as far as we have, neither could his patients. He was unmilitary, and yet he kept this army camp running as smooth as possible while in the face of impossible horror. He will be missed." He stopped for a moment. "I will be around for a day or so if anyone wishes to stop by the V.I.P. tent to talk for a while after the service."  
  
One by one, people stood and spoke. Some told humorous tales, somber, but all were teary-eyed. Hawkeye, Trapper, Klinger (wearing his best evening gown), Nurse Craddy, Hot Lips, even Frank, Rosie from the gin joint across the road, Nurse Kellye, Igor the cook, Nurse Ginger Bailey, and others.  
  
The service lasted for over one-and-a-half hours. It finished with Radar, who could barely stand.  
  
"Oh, please, God! Not Colonel Blake! No!" He fell back into his seat, his face buried in his hands, shoulders racking with barely audible sobs.  
  
O.K. that's it for now. Big twist in the next segment involving Frank. Keep a Hawkeye out for it. R&R, please! 


	3. Fed Up Frank

I promised a shocker involving Frank. Well, here goes!  
  
I hope everyone who reads this, enjoys it. Please R&R. Will do same for these who do for me.  
  
Fed Up  
  
The memorial service was done. Everyone was finally coming to grips with Henry's death, no matter how difficult it was.  
  
Sidney was as busy as he had ever been. People had been in and out all afternoon, crying, talking, not knowing how to continue. One by one, they filed into his tent. One by one, they had been "cured".  
  
Frank was having a hay day setting up shop. Four times he yelled at Radar for something trivial. Four times Radar had ignored him, only to anger him more.  
  
Klinger was back to mending his dresses, much to Frank's displeasure at not burning them as ordered.  
  
Father Mulcahy was preparing next Sunday's service. He didn't much have the heart to do it, but he was, after all, the only spiritual leader in camp.  
  
Hotlips was busy helping Frank. Four times she had to calm him down, telling him that Radar would do what Frank asked. He was still in mourning and would come around in due time. It seems, according to Frank, two hours was more than enough time.  
  
Hawkeye and Trapper were doing what they could to keep busy. Only three wounded soldiers had arrived since Henry left (all three lived to fight another day of course).  
  
"I need some time off," mumbled Hawkeye.  
  
"You got some 'time off'. There's a lull on, remember?" answered Trap.  
  
"No, no, no. I need to go to Tokyo or, at least Seoul. I gotta get away before I start goin' buggy!" Hawk replied. "Before I start 'screwing up, surgery-wise'."  
  
"Why don't you go ask Frank for a three-day pass?"  
  
"Ah, Frank! He wouldn't sign the peace treaty, or the war treaty, or anything else for that matter."  
  
"Well, it couldn't hurt to ask!" suggested Trapper.  
  
"I guess you finally put a cork in that slow leak of yours," Hawk laughed as he ran out of the Swamp, narrowly avoiding the pillow that Trap had just flung at him.  
  
"Frank," said Hawk as he entered Major Burns office. "Gimme a two-week pass. I'm goin' to Tokyo."  
  
"Forget how to knock, Pierce?" Frank snapped. "You will no longer barge into this office like you own the place. No more will you talk to me in that insolent manner! And put on your uniform before you come in here. I don't want to see you in that ratty bathrobe aside from the showers. Haven't you ever heard of a salute, Captain? Furthermore..."  
  
"You done yet, Frank?"  
  
"And no more interrupting me when I am speaking!" Frank continued. "There will be some changes here, starting right now!"  
  
"I'm goin' to Tokyo. Please, Sah, may I have a two-week pass, Sah?"  
  
"Don't waste that sarcasm on me, Jabber-jaws!" Frank hissed. "No two-week pass, Sah."  
  
"No? Did you say no or are you talkin' in your sleep again?"  
  
"You heard right, Bub. No more come and go as you like. You will report to me before you step one foot out of my camp and again when you return. And, yes, this includes 'Rosies', which, by midnight tonight will be off limits to all military personnel from the 4077th." Frank nodded.  
  
"Frank, if you don't give me a two-week pass, I'm gonna tie you up, smear you head-to-toe in honey and put you on the biggest ant hill I can find this side of Crabapple Cove!" Hawkeye leaned in. "I need that pass, Frank. Don't make me do something your gonna regret."  
  
"Henry's dead. As I told that swine friend of yours two nights ago, I'm in command now," Frank bit out. "What I say goes! I'm not that bumbling drunk who called himself a commander! He's dead. Got it? And I demand respect!"  
  
Hawk was furious now. "Kiss my ass, Ferret-face!" He muttered, barely able to contain his anger.  
  
"What did you say?" Frank was on his feet now.  
  
"KISS IT, FERRET-FACE!" Hawkeye yelled. With that, he turned and headed towards the door to Radar's office.  
  
He didn't know what hit him. Frank was over the desk and had Hawkeye against the wall in a split second. He spun Hawk around and put his arm into Pierce's chest.  
  
"How do you like being pushed around, Captain?" he snarled.  
  
He moved his arm from Hawk's chest long enough to grab the lapels of the robe and throw Hawkeye onto his desk. "Do you enjoy taking it as much as dishing it out?" he yelled.  
  
The door opened as Radar came in to see what the ruckus was about.  
  
"Holy shit!" He hollered.  
  
Radar ran from the office to post-op, where Trapper and Major Houlihan were checking a patient.  
  
"Trapper! Major! Come quick! Major Burns is beating up Hawkeye like a rag-doll!" He spun around and hightailed it back.  
  
Trapper and Margaret turned to each other. "What the hell?" they said at the same time.  
  
As they entered Frank's office, they found Radar huddling in the corner and Hawkeye on the floor with Frank above him, the major's right hand pulled back ready to strike Pierce.  
  
"Frank!"  
  
"Jesus, Hawk! What the hell happened?"  
  
Trapper grabbed Frank's arm just as he was about to swing. Margaret ran to the other side and together, they pulled him off.  
  
"Major Burns! You have got to set an example. What do you think you were doing?!?!?"  
  
"Hawk, you ok? Come on, now. Let's get out of here before he gets passed Hotlips."  
  
Ok, fans and friends...What did ya think? Please review. More to come later. Promise! 


End file.
